


Happiness

by fluffyxcloud



Series: The Fighter [2]
Category: Highlight | Beast (Band)
Genre: Angst, Grief/Mourning, Healing, M/M, What Have I Done, check your feels at the door, junhyung is a good friend, omg the angst, sorry yoseobbie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-18
Updated: 2012-02-18
Packaged: 2019-02-19 10:51:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13122225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffyxcloud/pseuds/fluffyxcloud
Summary: Sequel to The Fighter. Yoseob's world crumbles and he has to learn to pick himself up again. But it'll take more than Junhyung for him to finally find happiness. Sometimes you have to help yourself.





	Happiness

 

 

He never leaves the living room, really. The bedroom holds too many memories, the bed is too big. The pillow doesn’t smell like him anymore.

 

 

Yoseob blinks slowly as he tries to recall that scent. His eyes burn as he realizes the memory is leaving, only the faint comfort of warmth and cologne brushes the edges of his recollections. His breath hitches in a familiar way.

 

 

He can’t remember being happy.

 

 

The television is off. He doesn’t need it on anymore. Maybe he never really needed it on. The blank screen reflects mockingly back at his pale figure, laughing at his disheveled appearance, his messy hair and red eyes. Yoseob doesn’t cry as much anymore. The blank pierrot mask has settled over his features, calming him. He’s afraid that any disturbance of his precarious equilibrium will send him teetering over the edge.

 

 

He breathes mechanically through his chapped lips.

 

 

 

 

*****

 

 

 

Junhyung gently leads Yoseob to the bathroom. Yoseob lets himself be pulled, feet moving along reluctantly down the hallway. He doesn’t notice what’s going on. He wishes Junhyung were someone else and then feels terrible. Junhyung deserves a medal, not a dismissal. Yoseob retreats further into himself.

 

 

Junhyung carefully peels off his dirty clothes and drops them on the tiled floor. He turns on the water, prepares it, guides his friend into the warm water. Junhyung takes off his shirt but otherwise lets his clothes get wet from the splashing showerhead. He steps in next to his friend and begins to gently wash his hair.

 

 

Yoseob hears rich laughter echoing in the caverns of his mind. Junhyung’s hands become bigger, stronger, and Yoseob sighs contentedly.

 

 

And then Junhyung opens the body wash.

 

 

There it is.

 

 

Yoseob inhales. Doojoon is there. He’s there. His eyes fly open hopefully and a panicked hand reaches out to feel Doojoon’s heartbeat, steady and comforting and _there_.

 

 

The bathroom snaps into view. He stares at Junhyung’s wide eyes. Looks down at his hand, pressed against his chest and feels the fast pounding of the heart against his palm. His body shakes as he turns and sees the opened bottle in Junhyung’s right hand.

 

 

Yoseob comes undone.

 

 

 

 

*******

 

 

 

Junhyung steps in the house. He had a copy of the key made back when…and now takes to popping by often, just to make sure Yoseob is caring for himself.

 

 

“Junhyung?” He hears footsteps walking down the hall towards him.

 

 

“Hey, Seob,” he calls, closing the door behind him. Yoseob comes into the living room. He looks better. Normal, almost. But Junhyung sees the darkness in his eyes and knows his friend is far from alright.

 

 

“What are you doing here?” Yoseob asks, not accusingly, as he eyes the plastic bag in Junhyung’s hand.

 

 

“Brought food,” Junhyung answers easily, toeing off his shoes and walking towards the kitchen. Yoseob walks behind him. He misses when the younger man would talk his ears off. When he would ramble on about the things he’s done or seen since that morning, no matter how inconsequential. Now he’s silent, lost in his thoughts and Junhyung is responsible for filling the silence.

 

 

“I bought you fresh fruit from the market because I know you don’t go out as much and it’s strawberry season,” Junhyung says as he reaches to pull a plate from the cupboard. Yoseob hums in agreement and suddenly Junhyung misses his best friend acutely.

 

 

He feels like Yoseob died with his boyfriend.

 

 

Junhyung scowls, back turned to Yoseob, and slams the plate too hard down on the counter. It shatters.

 

 

“Shit!” he hisses before Yoseob is at his side, checking for wounds.

 

 

“Jun, be more careful,” Yoseob scolds after deeming Junhyung unharmed. Junhyung smiles at Yoseob’s mothering. Maybe he wasn’t all gone. He bites his lip as Yoseob leaves the room to get a broom. He curses Yoon Doojoon again for leaving him all alone.

 

 

The stupid broken plate. Junhyung kneels down and begins to pick up the pieces. He’s been doing that a lot lately.

 

 

Yoseob comes back in, flicking dark hair from his eyes. Broom in hand, he smacks Junhyung’s ass with the bristles. “Get out of the way, Junnie,” he says bossily, “don’t cut your hand on the pieces.”

 

 

By now Junhyung is drowning in his analogies. _You’ve cut me_ , he thinks. _I’m already bleeding from picking up the pieces_. The poetic irony is killing him and Junhyung chuckles.

 

 

Yoseob smiles. It’s heartbreaking because Junhyung can’t find anything in it, but he lets the other sweep up the broken porcelain and dump it in the trash can.

 

 

 

 

*******

 

 

 

Yoseob wakes up on the couch again. He still won’t sleep in his bed. He blinks sleep from his eyes and feels in a funk. He wonders why there is an acidic pit in his stomach now accompanying the heaviness he’s already used to.

 

 

He sniffs and heaves himself off the cushions, wobbling to the bathroom. Every morning it’s the same routine. He washes his face, brushes his teeth, avoids looking in the mirror. He’s not sure why, but he hasn’t been able to do it for a while. He wonders if it’s because he’s afraid of seeing someone else in the mirror.

 

 

He doesn’t want to be anyone but the man Doojoon loved.

 

 

Loves, he corrects in his head. He loves me.

 

 

Today Yoseob doesn’t walk past his closed bedroom door. He stops in front of it, the painted wood looming in his vision. He swallows and rests his hand on the handle. The acidic pit in his stomach squirms and he feels queasy. He opens the door. It squeaks with misuse and he peeks through a crack as if he was spying on someone else’s room. Perhaps it was.

 

 

He steps cautiously through the doorway and the carpet sinks under his feet. The room is clean, sterile, and Yoseob sees the folded up paper on his bedside table. A worn picture lies on top. The pit rises into his throat and Yoseob forces himself to stop hyperventilating. Eyes glued to the paper, he walks across the room and to the side of the bed.

 

 

The wrinkles on the coverlet are from when Junhyung mistakenly tried to tuck him in after he fell apart in the bathroom. He winces at the memory, remembering nothing but wanting to die. He knows he caused Junhyung pain that night, hurting him, screaming and crying. Junhyung tried to calm him down and put him to sleep. The smell that rose from his sheets had him lunging across the room like a rabid animal.

 

 

Yoseob runs a hand along the cold sheets. He gingerly sits at the edge of the bed. His eyes don’t leave the paper, resting on top of the table. He worries his lower lip and the silence rushes in his ears. The acid is a nagging in his stomach. He’s forgetting something.

 

 

Looking at the paper makes his body ache, and after a long moment he leans over to pick it up off the table. He unfolds it and holds it like a treasure.

 

 

 _I didn’t want to be clichéd_ , the letter says. Yoseob’s whimpers leak out without warning and suddenly he’s crying again. He takes short, stuttering breaths and hunches over the letter. His fingers gingerly hold onto the paper, afraid to make a dent, make a single wrinkle to the last thing he has of his lover.

 

 

“Doojoon-ah,” he whispers to the dead air and it’s like a spell is broken. Yoseob collapses on the bed, burying his face into the pillow but there’s nothing there. Desperate, he puts the letter back on the table and practically runs to the bathroom. He falls to his knees in front of the counter under the sink and tears the door open, reaching desperately for the body wash buried inside. He pulls it out, pops the cap.

 

 

He knows he looks stupid, curled up in the small room, sobbing messily as he clings to an old bottle of body wash. But that’s how Junhyung finds him hours later, hoarsely keening into the room, “happy birthday” leaking from his broken lips.

 

 

 

 

*****

 

 

 

Junhyung feels himself falling apart with every month that passes and Yoseob remains hollow. ‘Am I not good enough?’ he wants to ask. ‘Can’t you see I’m doing everything I can for you?’

 

 

He opens the door to Yoseob’s house one sunny day with plans for a walk outside in the warm weather. He sees the younger man on the couch, clutching a dark sweater in his arms and staring blankly at the television, silent tears running familiar tracks down his face.

 

 

Junhyung’s had enough.

 

 

He lets out an audible exhale and shuts the door, running a tired hand through his hair. Yoseob doesn’t move but makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat. “Yoseob,” Junhyung says, and his strained voice fills the room.

 

 

This time Yoseob catches hidden words in his name. He turns at looks at his best friend. Junhyung looks ragged, his eyes are dark. His hair is messy and the large glasses covering his face don’t hide the raw pain in his expression.

 

 

“Yoseob,” he says again and his voice breaks at the last syllable. Junhyung walks around the couch, facing Yoseob. His friend looks up at him with wide, glassy eyes. Junhyung opens his mouth, closes it. He crouches on the floor and stands up again, moves agitated. The frustration builds in his gut and Junhyung looks again at Yoseob, clutching what he now recognizes as one of Doojoon’s sweaters.

 

 

His breath quickens and Junhyung is angry. Angry at Doojoon, angry at Yoseob, angry at himself and at everything in the world. He inhales and before he knows it picks up a potted plant sitting on top of the tv and flings it at the wall. “God dammit!” he screams, voice cracking from the strain, feeling no better as the loud shattering of the plant breaks through the tension. Yoseob jumps up and grabs Junhyung’s arm, “Junhyung, what the hell?” he asks, nails digging into the other’s arm. Junhyung has successfully gotten Yoseob to stop crying. He takes one look at red eyes and feels himself begin to break.

 

 

“God dammit,” he says again, beginning to cry and wonders if the house soaks up the sorrow like a sponge. He feels suffocated.

 

 

Yoseob is a little afraid. “Jun,” he says, sinking to the floor with his best friend. Junhyung’s never been like this. Junhyung desperately grabs Yoseob’s hand, still clinging to his arm and brings it to his chest, cradling it in his grip.

 

 

“Why,” he asks, gasping through the tears beginning to free themselves from his eyes. “Why can’t you look at me and see me?”

 

 

Yoseob is utterly confused and he begins crying at his friend’s distress. “Junnie I don’t understand.”

 

 

Junhyung has all of Yoseob’s attention now and he doesn’t know if he wants it. “I love you,” he says before he can regret. “I love you Yoseob, please don’t cry.” And he clutches the shocked Yoseob before yanking him in his arms, pulling his head under his shaking chin.

 

 

 

 

****

 

 

 

Yoseob doesn’t know why he lets Junhyung hold him. Why he lets Junhyung tenderly kiss his chapped lips. Why he lets Junhyung run his hands tenderly through his hair the way a lover would.

 

 

Yoseob is lonely. He owes Junhyung. He loves Junhyung. His best friend, his only other important person in the world.

 

 

For all the wrong reasons Yoseob lets Junhyung lay him down on the couch, kissing his face, his tears. He feels hands lovingly brush against his stomach and Yoseob’s breath hitches, loving his best friend so much. In the back of his mind, Yoseob is afraid that Junhyung’s touch will erase Doojoon’s. And a small part of him wishes it would. He ignores both fears and tries to kiss Junhyung back. His lips are smaller, his face is shorter, his hands more callused and used to the strings of the guitar he loves to play. Yoseob tugs on hair that is thicker, runs his hands along shoulders that are too narrow.

 

 

Junhyung is loving Yoseob’s mouth, worshipping his neck. His hands dance along the planes of his stomach and he is lost in the haze of every dream he’d ever entertained about this moment.

 

 

Except.

 

 

Except he opens his eyes and sees that Yoseob is crying. And Junhyung can’t, won’t break his best friend anymore.

 

 

He gets up, untangling from Yoseob’s large hands. Yoseob’s breaths even out, glazed eyes staring at the ceiling for a moment before he blinks and looks at Junhyung’s solemn expression. Their lips are red. Yoseob feels like he has betrayed someone. He’s not sure who.

 

 

“I’m sorry,” Junhyung says after a moment. Yoseob swallows.

 

 

“Junnie.” He can’t say anything else. He looks at the black sweater lying on the floor from earlier and then over at the broken plant splattered against the carpet by the wall.

 

 

Junhyung stands abruptly and in a second he’s crossed the room. The front door slams behind him. Yoseob buries his face in his hands.

 

 

 

 

****

 

 

 

A few weeks pass and Yoseob is tired of moping. He’s tired of thinking. He’s especially tired of avoiding a room in the house like it owns him. He clutches the little bravery he has and goes in. There is a moment of hesitation before he sits firmly on the bed. Yoseob picks up the picture of himself, puts it to the side. He holds the letter in his hands. He reads the words again even though he has them memorized. _Love doesn’t always win, Yoseob_ his lover had told him. Yoseob wanted to laugh at the painful truth.

 

 

_We don’t have to be all alone._

__

 

__

 

__

 

_I’ll always be with you._

 

 

Yoseob blinks rapidly. It isn’t fair that Doojoon was taken away from him so early. But Yoseob feels like he’s let Doojoon down. _I’ll always be with you._

 

 

“You with me, Doo?” Yoseob asks into the empty room.

 

 

There’s no answer, but Yoseob doesn’t expect one.

 

 

 

 

****

 

 

 

This time it’s Yoseob’s turn to visit Junhyung. He knocks on the door to the apartment, shifting in his shoes. Junhyung opens the door and his eyes visibly widen when he sees Yoseob’s face in the doorway.

 

 

“Hi,” Yoseob says, smiling tentatively. But Junhyung notices it’s real. He opens the door to let his best friend in.

 

 

Yoseob stands awkwardly in the foyer. He takes off his shoes and follows Junhyung to his couch. Yoseob begins to understand why therapists use them.

 

 

They sit next to each other, facing each other, and Yoseob breaks the silence. “I love you, Junnie.”

 

 

Junhyung licks his lips and meets Yoseob’s eyes. “But,” he says.

 

 

Yoseob is silent for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he says. “You’re my best friend. I’ve been horrible to you lately. I’ve put so much pain on you.”

 

 

Junhyung cringes. “No,” he denies, “I will always, _always_ , be here for you as a friend, as a brother, first and foremost.”

 

 

Yoseob smiles weakly. “Junhyung. I can’t love you the way you want me to.”

 

 

Junhyung swallows. “I know. I’ve always known.” They’re silent for another beat. “I think Doojoon really loves you,” he finally said, looking down at his hands. It’s the first time he’s said his name out loud since Yoseob got the news.

 

 

“Loves?” Yoseob questions. “Don’t you mean loved?” He blinks and stares at Junhyung’s forehead.

 

 

“No,” Junhyung said, leaning in. Yoseob flinches but Junhyung just kisses his forehead. “Loves. Didn’t you read his letter, Yang Yoseob?”

 

 

Yoseob feels his eyes burn but he doesn’t cry.

 

 

 

 

*****

 

 

 

“Doojoon,” he announces to the empty room. “You’re an asshole for being quiet this whole time. But I guess I forgive you. It must be hard talking to me when I’m such a mess.”

 

 

He feels a bit stupid but keeps going.

 

 

“I love you,” he says, voice strong. “And I’m not going to be like this anymore. So…” he pauses to collect himself. “So stop worrying about me. I’ll wait for you so…so you’d better wait for me to find you again, got it?!”

 

 

Yoseob picks up the letter and faded picture and places it into a small decorated box on the bed. Inside are other knickknacks. Earrings he’s left at his house, a few polaroids that had been taped to the bedroom mirror. A small bottle of his cologne. Yoseob won’t throw it away; he’s not going to forget. He takes a recently framed picture of them and brings it out to the living room. He places it on top of the television.

 

 

He and Doojoon are in winter jackets, wrapped in each other’s arms. Doojoon has Yoseob’s scarf tucked under his finger and they’re kissing. That’s how Yoseob is going to remember him.

 

 

He smiles brightly and goes to do a load of laundry. His sheets have gotten dusty.

 

 

 

 

 

 

********

 

 

 


End file.
